


221B Baker Street, Where the Wild Things Are

by ChrisCalledMeSweetie



Series: Children's Classics with a Johnlock Twist [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fantasy, Humor, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Sex Toys, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/pseuds/ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Sherlock wore nothing but a bed sheet  <br/>and made mischief of one kind and another<br/> John called him “WILD THING!”  <br/>and Sherlock said “I’LL EAT YOU UP!”  </p><p>John gave him a long, searching look.   <br/>“Was that an innuendo?” </p>
            </blockquote>





	221B Baker Street, Where the Wild Things Are

The night Sherlock wore nothing but a bed sheet  
and made mischief of one kind and another  
John called him “WILD THING!”  
and Sherlock said “I’LL EAT YOU UP!”  
  
John gave him a long, searching look.   
“Was that an innuendo?”  
  
“Whatever do you mean?” Sherlock asked, suddenly coy.  
  
So he was sent to bed without eating anything.  
  
That very night in Sherlock’s room a forest grew and grew —  
and grew until his ceiling hung with vines  
and the walls became the world all around  
and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Sherlock  
and he sailed off through night and day  
and in and out of weeks and almost over a year  
to where the wild things are.  
  
And when he came to the place where the wild things are  
they clicked open their terrible lube  
and waved their terrible dildos  
and snapped their terrible cock-rings  
and brandished their terrible butt plugs  
and wielded their terrible riding crops  
and flaunted their terrible anal beads  
and displayed their terrible handcuffs  
until Sherlock said “BE STILL!”  
and tamed with the magic trick  
of trying all their sex toys without coming once.  
  
And they were frightened  
and called him the most wild thing of all  
and made him king of all wild things.  
  
“And now,” cried Sherlock, “let the wild orgy start!”  
  
“Now stop!” Sherlock said,  
and sent the wild things off to bed  
without any orgasms.  
  
And Sherlock, the king of all wild things, was lonely  
and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.  
  
Then all around from far away across the world  
he smelled good things to eat  
so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.  
  
But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go —  
we’ll eat you up — we love you so!”  
  
And Sherlock said, “No!”  
  
The wild things waved their terrible dildos  
and snapped their terrible cock-rings  
and brandished their terrible butt plugs  
but Sherlock stepped into his private boat  
and waved good-bye  
and sailed back over a year  
and in and out of weeks  
and through a day  
and into the night of his very own room  
where he found John waiting for him…  
  
And he was still hot.

**Author's Note:**

> This evening I published “The High-Functioning Sociopath Who Walked by Himself,” and the first reader to comment said the story reminded her of “Where the Wild Things Are.” Well, that was too much inspiration to pass up. So here, an hour later, is another bastardization of a classic children’s story. Please comment — you just might inspire my next work.


End file.
